I’M A PROSTITUTE. I’m sorry to discomfort you in the very beginning itself, but that’s my identity. That’s what everyone else calls me and that’s what every mother tells her daughter not to be like. But I exist, and I’m sorry that I exist.
I have no qualification, no dream; well actually I do have a dream but I’m not allowed to dream, so I’m not a dreamer anymore. I have no respect and status in society. Although they are the ones who made me and visit me but still they don’t accept me. Well, I try to collect courage and fight and voice for how and what I feel but it’s too much of emotional draining that I go through every time a customer closes the door.
PROSTITUTES EARN A LOT. This is the biggest myth of society. You’ve no idea what goes inside when the doors are closed and what happens when the doors open. My mother in the village is still waiting for me to send money so that she could eat a little better. My brother was recently removed from the school because I failed to send the fees. They have been sleeping without light for months because I couldn’t collect enough money to light their lives.
Every evening I get ready to welcome someone of you, oh! Not at all because I’m happy to see you or the ride you give me I’m only concerned about the amount you pay me. You know highly professional.
So what exactly happens is when a customer comes in he gets a choice to choose us, and we don’t. But that’s not a problem, our society never allowed women to have choices. And then someone someday chooses me to go and sleep with. I happily get in. And meanwhile, he closes the door I’m already done stripping my clothes. And he jumps on me and we begin having fun.
NO, WAIT. REALITY CHECK.
The moment he closes the door, I’m scared that what is gonna do, is he gonna be gentle or is he gonna bleed me to death? Is he gonna talk to me first, or just push me against the wall? And then he suddenly pushes me and starts eating me like an animal. I can’t even tell him, that it’s hurting. I’m being paid for that. I keep myself in control and let him do all he wants.
When we’re done, I gently ask him, sir, when would you come back? And he slaps me on a face spitting and telling, I’ve eaten a lot of you and you don’t excite me anymore. I again ask him before leaving sir, money? He throws 150 bucks on my face. But sir we talked for 300 bucks, and to which he replies, “Nikal be randi.“
I honestly don’t have enough time to cry for that, because I will have to make up with the other more and more customers, because my responsibilities are way heavier than my pain. So I wipe myself and stand again in the queue, with the same smile again.
And then someone else comes, some being gentle, some riding me to bleed, some kicking my vagina, some throws me like an object and some burn me with the cigarettes.
I LIVE SUCH AN EASY LIFE.
You can never satisfy the society, they question their own made rules and make you live the worse showing the good. Every night I have a dream, to get out of here and have a life for me. I want to work, but when people know who I’m they push me away like a beggar.
When I was small I used to tell my mother, I wanted to be a doctor and she always told me to have strength in your dream even though when conditions are not favorable. But I’m all broken, and I’m sorry I couldn’t make you proud, Maa.
The same society who made us, are denying us today. We’re denied from having education, food, clothes, shelter, and deprived of all our rights.
WHY? Because I’m a PROSTITUTE.
Who made me? YOU PEOPLE.
We’re are no different than normal people, we can have an education, we can have a dream, we can have a voice and we can have capabilities as well. Just give us a chance. Give us a chance to be us, give us a chance to work, give us the opportunity to grow.
HOLD OUR HAND AND ACCEPT US AS WELL. WHY ARE WE PAYING FOR THE DAMAGE THAT’S NOT CREATED BY US. In this pandemic, we’ve been jobless, hungry and every day someone among us dies. Who’s to be held responsible for? Are we not part of this country? Are we not someone whose government should focus on and work for? There are so many questions left unanswered and every voice like me will eventually turn into chaos that no one hears.
WE DESERVE LIFE TOO. DON’T WE?
Pursuing last year of BA in Education and Socialism. I’m a Teacher, Published poet, content and story writer and LGBTQ+ Activist.